Author's notes: I thought of this as I was being lulled to sleep by
lightning and thunder in the wee hours of the morning of 8.22. I wrote
this about an hour straight (maybe less) on the way to my college to move
in on the same said day. Okay, so I don't know a great deal about Saiyuki
(though I'm attempting to fix that), but I know that storms are clichéd.
However, they are either Hakkai and/or Sanzo-perspective, or are third-
person omnipresent/omnipotent. (Yay for random writing classes, but I can't
seem to remember the third type.) I find Gojyo easy to do, for I am
partially he (the other part being the bouzu himself). Ande while ero
kappa and bouzu are my favorite slash pairing for this fandom, this isn't
intended to be that way.
Warnings: WAFF (unnatural for me-why do I keep on writing sap?!) and a teeny tiny not-really-spoilerific spoiler for episode four for the ero kappa. [sniffles and huggles Ero-chan, the Gojyo plushie]
- - - - -
Kotoba mo Naku, Zehi (Without Words, Without Fail)
What is it about rainy nights, exactly? I'll never know. And those two as sure as hell aren't telling.
That damn monkey is usually the first out (most likely the hibernation instinct kicking in after eating so goddamned much). He starts out curled in a happy little monkey ball, all sugar and spice'n shit. Give it a half hour, tops. Then he starts snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Fifteen minutes later, he starts stretching out. By the time everyone wakes up, he's sprawled out spread-eagle, a foot on top of Hakkai's stomach and a hand this close to punching me in the nose. (Hakkai says he's trying to get my hair. Riiight.)
Next out is often Hakkai, though he's been known to crash as soon as we get to an inn. But on rainy nights, the window often catches his eye and his smile gets more fake-looking and has a tendency to drop altogether. Before it gets too harsh, he'll murmur softly, "It's raining," before taking to bed.
And the great Sanzou-houshi-sama. He just grunts and pulls out a cigarette- and steals my lighter to light it. The most popular time-waster has to be the two of us playing a rather dull game of cards. Unless we're both pissed drunk - then it gets to interesting variations, usually hell-bent on humiliating the other (and it works).
Finally, I lose coherency (even to drunk rationale) and manage to kick off my shoes and vest (if I'm still wearing them.or anything at all [Damn him]) before collapsing.
But no matter how that rainy day went - no matter how many we've killed - the outcome is always the same:
Without words, I get prodded none-too-gently by a foot to my gut. Sanzo will be standing above me, in some varied state of undressed. Or completely so, depending on how well I kicked his ass.
Without words, I pull up to a lounging position and he sits in front of me, hugging his knees to his chest.
Without words, I sit up more until my chest brushes against his back and I rest my chin on his shoulder, my hair a crimson curtain across us both.
Without words, I drape my arms loosely about his shoulders, resting my hands over his. I raise my legs so that they rest against his arms and hook my ankles, effectively shielding him from the room, but not from the sound of raindrops hitting the roof and windows.
Without words, we sit there, him as my stuffed bouzu, me as his half-breed kappa blanket. Occasionally soft curses will barely pass his lips and he'll sometimes dig his nails into nearby skin (mine). I have a feeling that it's both to keep the upper hand on his emotions and to acknowledge me.
Without words, he falls asleep. So then it's only me and my thoughts until the rain stops. Or until one of the others make signs of consciousness. Sanzo has this uncanny monk talent to notice when something's going on while he's asleep. Sorry; meditating.
Then without words, we separate like a well-choreographed dance. I lay back down and Sanzo moves soundlessly to his futon beside me. He's out before I am and I can't help smiling wryly. Even if there's a bed in the room, we always end up on the floor. Unless Sanzo's overly pissy or someone's gotten the shit beaten out of him, that is. In the case of the latter, we kick the pissy monk's sorry ass off.
And what about me? I don't have problems with the rain, per se. It gets my clothes soaked (though man a girl would kill to help me out of them) and Goku reminds me of a drowned rat, but I don't really have any traumatic past connected to it or triggered by it. I just get to revel in seeing the unflappable monk this vulnerable. Having an almost intimate contact with the asexual man is a rather interesting plus, too.
Maybe if I were more daring, I'd ask why he hates the rain. Maybe if I had a death wish. Though if I had a death wish, I'd do more than ask him. But I have this rather fond attachment to life.
Besides, if I kicked the bucket, whom would Sanzo have to remind him of the present, and not the past?
Without words. Without fail.
Every rainy night.
- - - - -
Mm.This makes me want to do more Saiyuki fiction. Oh, and call me an ero youko, but I do think that Hakkai knows. What an observant man! [gyuu's in a dead-on impression of Hakuryuu/Jeep]
Hakkai: Where are you, Hakuryuu? [searches for the source of the sound]
Goku: Hakkai, where's Jeep?
Oh sweet Durga! I have an idea! [laughs merrily]
Sanzo: [somehow snuck behind Ten and has taken aim] Shut up. I don't like that sound.
Gojyo: Yeah. It sends shivers down my spine.
[smiles sweetly] I'm okay now, 'kaachan.
Sanzo: [twitches and pulls back the hammer] Yamero. Korosu zo. (Stop. I'll kill you.)
Gojyo: [doubles over laughing] Sanzo.mom.! Ahahahaha!
Sanzo: [chucks his halisen at Gojyo, clocking him soundly]
Hey! Don't hit 'touchan!
Gojyo: [sobers] Say what?! [exchanges a look with Sanzo, who nods, and picks up his shakujou]
Hoshit. [smiles and bows grandly] Well, it's been real. It's been fun. But it hasn't been real fun. Bai now! [runs for dear life, "'kaachan" and "'touchan" in hot pursuit]
Kougaiji: [none too thrilled] Okay, so the damn youko cornered me into this. The damned fox demon wants you to know that "C&Cs" are her "life's blood," so you should leave many little notes for her. Also, she has another one that needs to go through severe editing. I'm not in it; thank the gods.Right. She also likes when people email and "AIM" her to talk, and she says, "Tell them I don't bite unless they ask." [glares off-screen] Okay, is that enough now? What did I do to deserve this? [gripes some more and stalks off]
Warnings: WAFF (unnatural for me-why do I keep on writing sap?!) and a teeny tiny not-really-spoilerific spoiler for episode four for the ero kappa. [sniffles and huggles Ero-chan, the Gojyo plushie]
- - - - -
Kotoba mo Naku, Zehi (Without Words, Without Fail)
What is it about rainy nights, exactly? I'll never know. And those two as sure as hell aren't telling.
That damn monkey is usually the first out (most likely the hibernation instinct kicking in after eating so goddamned much). He starts out curled in a happy little monkey ball, all sugar and spice'n shit. Give it a half hour, tops. Then he starts snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Fifteen minutes later, he starts stretching out. By the time everyone wakes up, he's sprawled out spread-eagle, a foot on top of Hakkai's stomach and a hand this close to punching me in the nose. (Hakkai says he's trying to get my hair. Riiight.)
Next out is often Hakkai, though he's been known to crash as soon as we get to an inn. But on rainy nights, the window often catches his eye and his smile gets more fake-looking and has a tendency to drop altogether. Before it gets too harsh, he'll murmur softly, "It's raining," before taking to bed.
And the great Sanzou-houshi-sama. He just grunts and pulls out a cigarette- and steals my lighter to light it. The most popular time-waster has to be the two of us playing a rather dull game of cards. Unless we're both pissed drunk - then it gets to interesting variations, usually hell-bent on humiliating the other (and it works).
Finally, I lose coherency (even to drunk rationale) and manage to kick off my shoes and vest (if I'm still wearing them.or anything at all [Damn him]) before collapsing.
But no matter how that rainy day went - no matter how many we've killed - the outcome is always the same:
Without words, I get prodded none-too-gently by a foot to my gut. Sanzo will be standing above me, in some varied state of undressed. Or completely so, depending on how well I kicked his ass.
Without words, I pull up to a lounging position and he sits in front of me, hugging his knees to his chest.
Without words, I sit up more until my chest brushes against his back and I rest my chin on his shoulder, my hair a crimson curtain across us both.
Without words, I drape my arms loosely about his shoulders, resting my hands over his. I raise my legs so that they rest against his arms and hook my ankles, effectively shielding him from the room, but not from the sound of raindrops hitting the roof and windows.
Without words, we sit there, him as my stuffed bouzu, me as his half-breed kappa blanket. Occasionally soft curses will barely pass his lips and he'll sometimes dig his nails into nearby skin (mine). I have a feeling that it's both to keep the upper hand on his emotions and to acknowledge me.
Without words, he falls asleep. So then it's only me and my thoughts until the rain stops. Or until one of the others make signs of consciousness. Sanzo has this uncanny monk talent to notice when something's going on while he's asleep. Sorry; meditating.
Then without words, we separate like a well-choreographed dance. I lay back down and Sanzo moves soundlessly to his futon beside me. He's out before I am and I can't help smiling wryly. Even if there's a bed in the room, we always end up on the floor. Unless Sanzo's overly pissy or someone's gotten the shit beaten out of him, that is. In the case of the latter, we kick the pissy monk's sorry ass off.
And what about me? I don't have problems with the rain, per se. It gets my clothes soaked (though man a girl would kill to help me out of them) and Goku reminds me of a drowned rat, but I don't really have any traumatic past connected to it or triggered by it. I just get to revel in seeing the unflappable monk this vulnerable. Having an almost intimate contact with the asexual man is a rather interesting plus, too.
Maybe if I were more daring, I'd ask why he hates the rain. Maybe if I had a death wish. Though if I had a death wish, I'd do more than ask him. But I have this rather fond attachment to life.
Besides, if I kicked the bucket, whom would Sanzo have to remind him of the present, and not the past?
Without words. Without fail.
Every rainy night.
- - - - -
Mm.This makes me want to do more Saiyuki fiction. Oh, and call me an ero youko, but I do think that Hakkai knows. What an observant man! [gyuu's in a dead-on impression of Hakuryuu/Jeep]
Hakkai: Where are you, Hakuryuu? [searches for the source of the sound]
Goku: Hakkai, where's Jeep?
Oh sweet Durga! I have an idea! [laughs merrily]
Sanzo: [somehow snuck behind Ten and has taken aim] Shut up. I don't like that sound.
Gojyo: Yeah. It sends shivers down my spine.
[smiles sweetly] I'm okay now, 'kaachan.
Sanzo: [twitches and pulls back the hammer] Yamero. Korosu zo. (Stop. I'll kill you.)
Gojyo: [doubles over laughing] Sanzo.mom.! Ahahahaha!
Sanzo: [chucks his halisen at Gojyo, clocking him soundly]
Hey! Don't hit 'touchan!
Gojyo: [sobers] Say what?! [exchanges a look with Sanzo, who nods, and picks up his shakujou]
Hoshit. [smiles and bows grandly] Well, it's been real. It's been fun. But it hasn't been real fun. Bai now! [runs for dear life, "'kaachan" and "'touchan" in hot pursuit]
Kougaiji: [none too thrilled] Okay, so the damn youko cornered me into this. The damned fox demon wants you to know that "C&Cs" are her "life's blood," so you should leave many little notes for her. Also, she has another one that needs to go through severe editing. I'm not in it; thank the gods.Right. She also likes when people email and "AIM" her to talk, and she says, "Tell them I don't bite unless they ask." [glares off-screen] Okay, is that enough now? What did I do to deserve this? [gripes some more and stalks off]